


The Destined Doomed

by Inks0ng_writes



Category: Homestuck
Genre: a bit of an explanation in the notes, for those who are interested
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 09:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inks0ng_writes/pseuds/Inks0ng_writes
Summary: For there to have been timelines the Seers could look into, there had to have been timelines destined to fail from the start.Chapter One: On color theory, and mixing paint





	The Destined Doomed

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Breath & Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/250497) by [FiveTail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveTail/pseuds/FiveTail). 



> This is really more of a test run than anything. Hope you enjoy!!

_ Timeline #47 _

The first rule of color mixing is to NOT MIX COMPLEMENTARY COLORS. Because then you get a boring, icky, messy dirt brown. Poop brown. Brown of an  _ un _ complimentary shade.

Somehow, you don’t think Gamzee, for all his profession about being an 'artist' and 'painting the walls' with the rainbow of colors you have available onboard this dying rock, got the memo.

Speaking of memos, you finally remembered what you had meant to do when you first hit the ground. Shock had, somewhere along the way, simplified the world down to you, the pain in your gut, and the smell of iron in the air. The tang on your tongue is also very metallic. Somewhere in the haze of your mind, that starts ringing some alarm bells. Whatever, it’s not like you’re going to have time to really think that through where you’re going.

You manage to crack open an eyelid enough to fuzzily see the space in front of you. Which is covered in red. Red. Blood. Your blood. Hm. There’s actually quite a bit, puddling on the floor like that. That’s probably not very good.

You force yourself up onto your elbow, wheezing hazily and, distantly, you think you should maybe be sobbing from pain, but that part of your mind was numbed first, so you don’t pay it much attention. You giggle, sort of, when you slip in the red mess underneath you, but the giggle quickly turns into a weak moan when white-hot pain lances through your ribs. Fuck,  _ fuck _ , that hurt. You gasp wetly and claw yourself back into a half-upright position but it takes you a few tries to pick up your phone*. You miss twice and the third time, it slips through your fingers. Butterfingers.  _ Bloody _ fingers, hee, hee. 

It takes you another several attempts to unlock the device. Pesterchum’s already open from your first effort to call for backup. Rescue? Warning? You… don’t know anymore. You don’t know how long it’s been, from the time you first saw Gamzee stalk out of that corner, from the time it took you to pull out your phone and him to club Nepeta to death, from the time it took for him to take a single long stride to you and bring the club down into your ribs. From the time it took you to fall, to drop the phone, from the time it took him to stalk away and you to black out. And then wake up again. Fuck. Ha ha, fuck. You don’t know how many of the others might still be alive. You’re not sure you want to know. 

You type out a message with shaking fingers and you think you send it, and then you slump down against the wall, too tired to cry out at the pain in your side, your gut, your torso, your entire body. It hurts though, like a thousand burning spikes suddenly drilled into your bones. 

Ow.

Your toes feel cold, though. Your toes and fingers and arms and your face, a little, too. They’re freezing, compared to the burning, painful heat in your abdomen. Hm. That… is probably also not a good sign. Unless it is. You think you might still be in shock.

Something warm slides down your cheek. It could be blood, or it could be tears. One or the other. Two options. A, B; blood, or tears. Unless it’s sweat. You don’t think it’s sweat. Why… why would it be sweat?

You’re crying, though. You know because your chest hurts when it shudders and it doesn’t normally do that unless you’re sobbing. For some reason. For… dying, maybe. You’re dying.

You choke on a laugh and think you maybe need to sit down. More. than you already are. Obviously, it’s not helping.

You see the green blood mixing with yours some way away and it drags you back to your original train of thought. You kind of want to laugh. Yep, yes, complimentary. Red-and-green, pretty christmasy combo. It doesn’t look so pretty when it’s mixed together. You hazily drag a finger through the part where they started mixing to keep them separate. No yucky brown today. Nope.

Maybe when Gamzee comes back to actually appreciate the work he’s done, he’ll appreciate that too. Not letting the colors mix and swirl together and get all gross and sticky and  _ brown. _

Maybe he’ll regret it, when he sees the bodies. Maybe he won’t. Maybe the others already killed him, like you couldn’t. Because you’re so so weak.

Weak and tired, and so, so cold.

Maybe you’d be able to sleep, for a bit, before the others get here. Or Gamzee. Before whoever it is comes along and finds you. And Nepeta.

The world tilts suddenly, but you aren’t dizzy. You shut your eyes for a minute. Just a minute. And then maybe you’ll be able to tell the others to come and get your body.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot shorter than I thought it was. Welp. Have a longer-than-usual author's note to make up for it. :P
> 
> * Yeah, I couldn’t remember what the things they actually used to communicate were called, besides the laptops, and didn’t have the patience to just go and check, so they all have phones. Or something. Sorry. You can just pretend it’s AU. (More like AT, ha ha)
> 
> Yeah any weirdness that doesn’t really mesh with anything, just call it AU/AT/ff writer laziness. This is a dead timeline, it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t know whose view we’re in for this fic, but it’s any of the humans. It was originally going to be John, but.
> 
> Pick one, assume they somehow are on the asteroid, badda bing, badda boom. 
> 
> Can you tell I’m new to this fandom? Can you? It might not be that obvious.
> 
> If you liked it, leave a kudo/comment! Thanks!  
> ~Inksong


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